That's quite a flair Donald E. Green has for cover illustrations. A situation we can all relate to. How was he to know she had a lightning fetish?
A "French novel." Ahem. A "French novel." The sort where a woman's breasts are about to pop into view any moment now. How many sots in station bars tried to lift the corners of her too-small bolero jacket?
An early close encounter of the third kind. Earthy peasant drab finds herself in a sexy calves-exposing do-si-do with a zero-G spaceman from the Planet Super Mario.
For these and countless other cranked-out delights, we the railroad-riding businessmen of the 1950s and '60s salute you, Emile Zola.